


a midsummer night's dream

by magic_robot



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magic_robot/pseuds/magic_robot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as if Jimmy's life couldn't get any worse.</p><p>very noncon but no penetration if that makes it any better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a midsummer night's dream

**Author's Note:**

> i am very sorry i came into this fandom with this but apparently when I like a character I have to write about them like this. my dialogue skills are a little lacking but hopefully you get some character feeling out of this.

If there was one thing Jimmy liked about Albuquerque, and one was pushing it, it was the hot summer nights. Even if it was dark, leaving the courthouse was bearable if it was warm outside. It felt like there was still possibilities, like good times were right around the corner.

Sure, overall everything else was terrible, he was working for scraps and seemed to be getting nowhere fast. To top everything off, the current 'off' phase of his off-and-on relationship with Mike had forced him to park away from the main building but it was a balmy summer night. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he walked down the street.

 

From the shadows a fist flew into in his right eye, blinding him as he was dragged by his lapels into an alley.

 

"Ow, Jesus, fuck!" He'd barely managed to open his other eye before another hit to the face rattled him, followed by one in his gut that sent him folding onto the ground. He wheezed, clasping his hand to where he'd been hit. He couldn't feel any blood and surmised he hadn't been stabbed - so far, so good, and let himself be dragged up by the collar into a kneel.  

 

"Shut up man, just-" The assailant leaned down over him, clenching Jimmy's shirt in his fist as though they were back in highschool and Jimmy was about to get shoved back into a locker. "Gimme your wallet."

 

"Okay, okay, that's fine." He dug blindly into his jacket pocket and retrieved his wallet, staring at the ground as he passed it upwards. As soon as it left his fingers he braced himself for the next hit, the third smack in the head that would knock him out and end this whole awful encounter.

 

"What's in the briefcase?"

 

"Nothing. Paperwork. You're welcome to it." The tightness around his neck ceased and he sighed. A few seconds passed and he risked a peek up at his assailant, squinting against the glare of the streetlight above. Shadows from the brim of his baseball cap played over his face, letting Jimmy just see the sneer on his lips. Criminals didn't usually stay to savour the moment. He shifted to try and ease the sharp pressure in his knees and the man snickered.

 

What was there to laugh about that he needed to stick around for? He wasn't crying, he hadn't said anything stupid, he was just kneeling there. If asked, Jimmy would've reported he was close to maximum fear saturation already, 7/10 on the fear scale but his stomach still clenched as he checked off the list of things that tended to happen when people were scared. He'd pissed himself, probably, that had to be it. He found some relief in that it was in front of a petty thief and not the multiple drug dealers or law professionals or other fear inducing people he tended to be involved with. Maybe his bladder only responded to certain kinds of crime?

 

He found his voice, quiet but indignant. "That's a fear response, okay? Congratulations, you scared the piss out of me. I hope that and my few measly dollars makes you feel real good about yourself." He shifted to stand but the criminal's boot dug into his crotch and God, if only he'd pissed himself.  

 

The boot was a constant pressure, the raised patterns in the soles painful against the taut weight of his erection. He hated his body, despised it for responding to this, like it was desperate for attention. "Don't-" He reconsidered, clearing his throat. "Please be gentle."

 

"Are you a fag?" He almost scoffed, managing an exasperated sigh instead.

 

 _"Hey buddy, you're the one playing footsie with my boner right now."_ Jimmy wasn't that much of a masochist. He took the high road. "I stand by what I said before. I didn't get _turned on-_ " he wished his hands weren't trembling so he could air quote "because you robbed me, it's an adrenaline thing I mean - come on, you're a guy too, you know how these things go it's like 'wow, what's that doing there?'" His laugh rang hollow in the dim alley and his tone quickly returned to grave. "I promise you, I'm not falling for you, I'm just scared for my life." The boot was still there, still rubbing.

 

The man chuckled and unzipped his pants, hand fumbling in his underwear. "Good."

 

Jimmy huffed in distress and squirmed back uselessly against the wall. "N-no, no, trust me, you don't want this, the - this isn't a sexual assault, okay? This is a robbery, maybe an aggravated robbery if I'm feeling raw about it and I can be persuaded not to be, you know? Let's not make any decisions we'll regret here. You didn't come here for this. The life of a sex offender is not a pretty one. We can both go home and move on to the future. I'll forget this ever even happened."

 

"It's a - what's it called? Crime of opportunity? You obviously want it and I'm not going to pass up getting my dick wet."

 

"No, no, nononono-" He shook his head, facing away from him as best he could, ignoring the erection that was prodding against his cheek.

 

"C'mon." He hissed as his hair was pulled, tugging him into position. "Do it or I'll hurt you, just fucking do it." There was no softness in his voice, no gentle amusement about Jimmy's boner. Jimmy's protests became louder until the criminal broke his nose. A sharp yank made his mouth open and it was happening, dick rubbing sloppily against his bloody lips before sliding roughly into his mouth. Fingers gripped deeper into his fine hair as the man gave a few enthusiastic thrusts, pressing his boot with intent. Jimmy grunted and tried to keep his jaw slack.

For all his talk about Jimmy wanting it the man was committing this crime of opportunity with gusto, pulling back and coming abruptly over Jimmy's face, fluid spattering into his hair. He gasped and released his grip, staring in horror for a second before turning and running from the alley.

 

Jimmy sat there for a minute before wiping his face with his sleeve. He thought of the basins at the salon and how he hated cramming his neck into those godawful supports to wash what was left of his hair, how he wished he had a shower at his place, how he wished he had a place instead of a fucking back office in a nail salon. It would probably dry and crisp up before he'd get back anyway. The blood dribbling down his front was going to stain. He thought of how much his life sucked. The stars twinkled and the warm wind blew and he stood, grimacing at the wet sticky feeling in his pants. _Traitor._

His wallet laid a meter or so away, stuffed too hastily into the criminal's pocket. _Fuckin' idiot_. Jimmy wanted to laugh as he retrieved it but couldn't, instead managing a rapid few breaths and staving off crying. That was good enough.

 


End file.
